


Le désir

by un_petit_peu_de_moi



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blowjobs, Bottom Leo, Drunkness, FC Barcelona, M/M, Neymar's ginormous crush, a bit of internalized homophobia at the beginning, sex failures, teenage masturbation, though Neymar is one very lame top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6629581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/un_petit_peu_de_moi/pseuds/un_petit_peu_de_moi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neymar has wanted Leo for a long while, long before he came to Barça, long before they met, and he hasn't stopped wanting him ever since.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Le désir

**Author's Note:**

> Confession : the plot for this was 'bottom Leo', but it grew into a '5 times Neymar wanted Leo and 1 time he got him', except I didn't manage to fit the form, so now it's the story you're going to read.  
> Anyway ! My intent is for this story to becomes a series, where I'll be able to write other bottom Leo stories, but we'll see about that later.  
> This story probably doesn't feature what you'd expect of a top, but I hope you'll enjoy it !

(-2)

 

The first time it happens, Neymar isn't legal yet.

 

Messi has long hair and a jersey twice his size, and he winds through defenders like they aren't even there. He's still young, yet he's already the best in the world, and Neymar watches mesmerized. His eyes have long since stopped following the ball, searching for nothing but the small man on the pitch.

 

There he is – he finds him, walking slowly and nonchalantly, yet a few seconds later he breaks into a run and leaves everyone else in the dust. He scores a goal and Neymar cheers.

 

He doesn't really know how it happens, when it happens and what causes it, but as the second half is in full blast, he starts noticing how uncomfortable he feels and how tight his sweatpants are, which isn't exactly what he's wearing sweatpants for. And when he looks down-- when he looks down his pants are tenting, and suddenly it makes sense how hot he is and how needy he feels.

 

He's _hard_.

 

Neymar has no idea what to do. He panics.

 

He knows nobody is home, neither his dad nor his mom nor his sister, but he calls their name anyway, to check if they came back while he was immersed in the match. Nobody answers, but it does naught to calm him down.

 

He doesn't know what he should do – if he should take a cold shower, if he should ignore it until it goes away, if he should—- if he should do something about it.

 

He decides to hide in his room, watching again and again over his shoulders as he walks therelest he be watched. He locks the door of his room and lays on his bed and waits for his body to stop this nonsense.

 

He waits. And waits. And waits some more.

 

His boner won't go away, and he keeps rewinding the match in his head. He keeps seeing Messi, how he moved, how he played, how he looked. His heart beats fast and his dick is painful but Neymar doesn't touch himself; he's too afraid to. He's overwhelmed with a sense of forbidden, his head filled with thoughts that don't belong there. His brain is betraying him.

 

He's scared, terrified for half an hour, because his dick just won't get soft and his heart won't stop beating. He's scared his dad will come back any time now and see him like that and he'll guess what's wrong immediately.

 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, his body calms down, and he becomes _Neymar_ again.

 

 

 

(-1)

 

He meets him for the first time during a match. It's the Club World Cup, and Neymar is excited for several reasons, and one of them is definitely the fact that his idol, the best footballer in the world, is going to play on the same pitch as him.

 

He doesn't get to talk to him much before the match, and he has to keep himself from stopping to clap him during the game. He shouldn't be as excited as he is by the way Messi completely ruins their defense.

 

After the match – after the match he manages to see him up close. They shake hands and Neymar tries talking, tries acting like he isn't usually kneeling at his altar, and Messi smiles indulgently but he doesn't speak Portuguese. Messi looks young but he also looks older than him, hairs growing on his chin and his hands are rough and his handshake firm. Neymar feels inadequate. He's suddenly all to aware of his bleached Mohawk, of the band-aid on his nose and the acne on his skin. His hand is frail and unsure in Messi's. Messi can probably tell how Neymar is still a kid and Neymar doesn't feel good enough.

 

Messi accepts to exchange jerseys with him, though Neymar can't help feeling he's probably going to forget his in a trash somewhere. Messi probably doesn't even know who he is.

 

When he's back home and putting the content of his suitcase away, the jersey is still there and Neymar wonders what he should do with it. He should wash it, he thinks, but then it won't smell like Messi anymore.

 

He wonders how Messi smells.

 

He considers the crumpled cloth for a few minutes before hesitantly lifting it to his nose, and inhaling deeply.

 

It smells like sweat. It doesn't smell any different than his own sweat, yet there is something more to it. Something muskier, and something stronger like cologne maybe, or maybe the scent of Messi's skin.

 

Neymar inhales again, to take it in better, to memorize the scent. He inhales so hard he gets light-headed, and his mind swirls with images of Messi dribbling. He got past Neymar too, ridiculously easily, and Neymar was upset then and he's amazed now.

 

He's getting dizzy and hot way too fast. He lowers the shirt so he can breath fresh air, but even that isn't enough to make his head feels lighter and cool his body temperature.

 

He's hard.

 

It's the second time he's hard because of Messi, but Neymar feels bolder now. It happens sometimes now, looking at men instead of women, but it's Messi and Neymar doesn't know whether he has the right to.

 

He lays down, curls on his bed and pushes his head into the dirty jersey again, breathing it in. He sees Messi moving in his head, his sees his legs and how small they are and how fast they go. He sees his feet playing the ball like it's an extension of him, he sees his ass and his thighs that are too thick to belong to such a small man. He isn't sure why he's hard – if it's the skills or Messi himself. He doesn't know what he would prefer.

 

There's lube in a bag hidden in a bigger bag, swept away under clothes under the bed. It's Neymar's hiding place, and he kneels down to get it. His hands tremble when he slides his shorts down under his ass and grips himself tightly, a broken moan escaping his mouth.

 

It still doesn't feel totally right, because it's _Messi_ and it's the best player in the world and he's so much older than him. It's the first time he's thinking about another man while jerking off, and there's something  thrilling about it. He buries his face in Messi's shirt and he thinks about him moving on the pitch, he thinks about the goals and about his thighs. He wonders what his skin feels like, wonders what his mouth tastes like. He starts thinking about touching his ass, palming the flesh and kneading it, and it doesn't have anything to do with skills anymore.

 

He knows shits about this thing, and Messi is so much older than him and Neymar wouldn't have any idea what to do. He feels twisted, fantasizing about someone so old. His grip is firm on his cock, his hand moving fast. He can't breath anymore and he takes the shirt away from his nose, breathing deeply and moaning.

 

He shoves the shirt down and wraps it around his dick. It feels even dirtier like that ; he's using Messi's name, his belonging, to get off. It feels like an invasion of privacy, like he's violating his intimacy, and yet he can't stop. He jerks off off faster with the _blaugrana_ shirt wrapped around his cock, and when he comes he comes inside it, biting his lips so he won't moan out loud.

 

Later when he looks at the shirt, both the 10 and the name on the back are tainted with his semen. It feels wrong and arousing at the same time – that is until panic settles in.

 

He tries to wash it in the sink, using water and soap but it doesn't go away and Neymar doesn't know how to wash clothes properly. He scrubs and scrubs, his hands trembling when the semen won't come off, there for everyone to see Neymar's twisted ways.

 

Ultimately, he throws the shirt away.

 

 

 

(0)

 

He's going to Barcelona.

 

_Barcelona_ .

 

Where Ronaldinho played. Where Xavi and Iniesta are playing. Where  _Lionel Messi_ is playing.

 

Neymar has been nervous and eager ever since he got the news from his father. He's going to play with all his idols, he's going to play with Messi, in Camp Nou. They're going to interact, maybe they'll even become _friends_.

 

But first, Neymar needs to learn Spanish. He buys all kind of books but it's not enough. His Spanish is broken, the few lessons he had in school not enough and Neymar barely paid attention to the classes anyway, football the only thing on his mind.

 

Thankfully, Dani will be there too, Dani said he'll help him. Neymar wants to learn fast, so he can talk to Messi without making an ass out of himself. Already, he feels more confident, prettier, older – he's legal now, he's an _adult_.

 

“ _Juninho_!” his dad calls from downstairs. “ Phone for you!”

 

Neymar gets up slowly, and then his dad shouts, “it's Messi!” and Neymar rushes downstairs faster than before in his life.

 

His dad smirks at him when he sees him and silently hands him the phone. Neymar snatches it away.

 

“Hi?”

 

“Hola,” comes the Argentine voice.

 

Messi says something and Neymar doesn't understand. His accent is heavy and Neymar doesn't know enough Spanish yet. He panics for a bit – he doesn't want Leo to think he's an idiot.

 

Messi quiets down. He probably asked a question but Neymar doesn't have any answer to give.

 

Messi speaks his next words slowly, articulating carefully each syllable.

 

“Did you understand me?”

 

“No,” Neymar admits pitifully.

 

“Ah, uh.” Messi is silent for a few seconds, and then he tries again. “How are you?” he finally says.

 

The conversation doesn't last very long. Messi apparently called to reassure him that he would be welcomed at Barça – something he had to formulate differently a few times for Neymar to understand, nervousness and Leo's accent making it even harder for him to understand.

 

The conversation doesn't last very long because  M essi doesn't have  many things to say, but the fact he called at all make s Neymar  incredibly happy. He called, personally, to reassure  _him_ . They don't know each other yet and Messi already seems like a nice guy.

 

There's also the fact Neymar gets to hear his voice, on the phone, right in his ear. It's rather soft and deep, and Leo drawls some syllables out with a heavy Argentine accent. Neymar's heart beats fast and he can't give much more than mono-syllabic answers and awkward laughter. Messi must already thinks he's an idiot anyway, so he would rather listen than talk.

 

When the call ends, Neymar hands his phone back to his dad and quickly tells him how the conversation went. After that, Neymar rushes to his room as quickly as he can.

 

He doesn't waste any time, locking his door and taking his pants off. He spits on is palm and gets a hand around himself in a record time. He's in a rush, afraid he'll forget Messi's voice if he waits too long.

 

Messi's voice is ringing in his head, the words he spoke, even the one he didn't understand, whispered into his ear like filth. He puts a hand on his mouth to muffle his moans, all too aware his dad is still downstairs.

 

Neymar wonders how Messi sounds when he touches himself like he is doing now, how he moans and sighs and breathes – if he moans and sighs and breathes at all. Frustratingly, Neymar finds that he has no idea how Messi would act in bed, and he settles for rewinding meaningless words in his head instead. Messi's voice is enough to work him up fast, and all too soon Neymar is coming hard into his hand, smearing semen on his own clothes.

 

He has no idea how he's going to face Messi, his idol, his hero, when he keeps fantasizing about him like that. He should stop. He should stop, be a professional about it – professional don't fantasize about their coworkers.

 

 _Yes_ , he decides. This was the last time. _Never again_ , he promises himself as he sets on washing his clothes. He's an expert at this now.

 

 

 

(1)

 

Neymar doesn't exactly get the start he had hoped for. He's not magical, he's not the wonder boy, he's not resilient enough for their tackles.

 

He's trying though. It's his dream and he wants to succeed, and he believes he can succeed.

 

He doesn't befriend the whole squad immediately either. He's not good enough in Spanish, he's not comfortable enough in the locker room, because they don't know him and they think he's a brat, and Neymar doesn't understand them and he thinks they think he's a brat, and maybe they don't, he doesn't actually know. He has Dani at least, and Dani is a great help, and he teaches him Spanish when training is over.

 

He doesn't speak a whole lot to Leo, but they're polite and friendly with each other, and Neymar starts calling him _Leo_ , like everyone else does.

 

There's also the fact he didn't exactly keep his promise. He tried, he really tried, but first day on the job, Leo naked in the locker room after training, it was all too much for his body. And now, now he knows how Leo smells like, how his laugh sounds like, now he calls him by his name and when he's moaning it while jerking off it changes everything.

 

Leo is a bit more awkward and shy that he thought he would be, but he's nice and he never glares at Neymar, like Xavi or Mascherano do sometimes. Dani says that's just their resting face but Neymar still feels personally attacked.

 

Then again, seeing his performance on the pitch, Neymar would glare at himself too.

 

After a match where he failed to score, and to be of any use really, he keeps in his corner of the dressing room, angrily taking off his socks.

 

“Hey.”

 

A voice startles him just as he was about to take off his second sock, ready to throw it even more furiously than the first one. He looks up, and there stands a sweaty Leo, hair all mussed and shirt long gone.

 

Leo stares at the space next to him questioningly so Neymar scoots over to let him sit down.

 

Really, if Leo needs it, Neymar will sit on the floor.

 

“It’s fine if you don’t get it right away,” Leo says, careful not to use difficult words, and Neymar understands he’s referring to his poor performance on the pitch.

 

Neymar mumbles. He tends to be even worse at Spanish when he feels _too much_ , but sometimes it's also nice to have an excuse not to have to formulate coherent sentences.

 

“Nobody does,” Leo goes on.

 

Neymar mumbles something again, and Leo probably recognizes the word  _puta_ in there because he gives a short laugh. 

 

“It’s fine to be angry and ambitious. It’ll help you make it.”

 

“You think I can make it?”

 

“Of course,” Leo says immediately, not missing a beat.

 

And Leo, Leo is the king so whatever he says, it cannot be a lie.

 

“You’re so good,” Neymar says.

 

“What?”

 

Neymar doesn’t think _you’re godly on the pitch and so kind to me and I want to kiss you senseless_ is what Leo wants to hear. He isn’t sure how to say it in Spanish anyway. So instead he mumbles something in Portuguese again and Leo doesn't probe.

 

Leo gives him a short, reassuring smile and taps his shoulders before wandering away. Neymar watches him go, the way he shuffles, the way his shoulders sag, how unsuspecting he looks. He doesn’t take any space in the room, and his skin is so pale Neymar wonders if he’s maybe a ghost. That would explain why he haunts him every night.

 

But it doesn’t explain why Leo takes so little space and all the space all at once, because when Leo drops his shorts and briefs, there’s nowhere else where Neymar can look. He wonders if that makes him a bad player, that the sight of Leo’s ass makes him forget all about his wallowing.

 

He stares until Leo disappears in the shower room, and his heart beats fast and his face feels hot.

 

Dani’s head fills his vision, peering at him curiously. “Are you blushing?”

 

“I-” he startled back. “No I’m not!”

 

“You are,” Dani smirks, ruffing his hair. “What are you thinking about? Don’t pop a boner in the locker-room, everyone will see it.”

 

“I won’t,” Neymar hisses, batting Dani’s hands away. “And that’s none of your business.”

 

Dani laughs, but he doesn’t press ( _for now_ ), and Neymar files the image of Leo undressing for later.

 

 

 

(2)

 

The year ends like it started : badly. It’s not Neymar’s year, it’s not even a good year. It’s no one year’s really.

 

They don’t win, anything. Neymar suffers an injury, Leo suffers an injury, there’s the scandal with his contract, there's the taxes, there’s that coach Neymar didn’t get to know but that everybody weeps for.

 

Neymar is starting to get a good grasp on Spanish, but he got so little playing time with Leo that it doesn’t even matter. He still didn't get over his boyish crush, still can’t break the barrier he built between them when he decided to worship the living shit out of Leo.

 

Despite them losing everything, Gerard still organizes a party at the end of the year, and they all go there and drink and have fun because there will always be next year.

 

Neymar drinks a lot, shots after shots. He thought this could be his season. He knows it’s hard at Barça, he knows first years never go well, but he thought he could be the exception, he thought he could better than everyone but he isn’t.

 

He notices as he stumbles through Geri’s living room that Leo is sitting by himself on a couch, pondering Things on his own.

 

The alcohol makes him brave, so he goes to bother him, sitting down heavily next to him with a _oof_. Leo stares at him curiously.

 

“You not drinking?” Neymar slurs, pointing at Leo’s full glass and the way he’s not drinking.

 

“No, there’s nothing to celebrate,” Leo mutters, his eyes leaving his face to glare angrily at this drink.

 

Neymar thinks about how, despite looking peaceful and calm, Leo is the most competitive person he knows. Away from the journalists, Leo's wounded pride after the Ballon d'Or ceremony could be felt everywhere in the locker room for days. He never saw someone shampoos his hair so vengefully.

 

“That’s why we drink. Because there’s nothing to celebrate.”

 

He nudges Leo’s drink towards him but Leo pushes it away, shaking his head.

 

“Come on! Loosen up! Or--” His eyes widen as he realizes the true reasons behind Leo's restraint. “Are you a sad drunk?”

 

“What?” Leo doesn't seem to have expected Neymar to see right through him.

 

“Are you a sad drunk?” he repeats, making an effort to articulate everything.

 

“I understood the first time,” Leo says.

 

“Oh.” Neymar waits for an answer but since none come, he concludes that Leo definitely _is_ a sad drunk  and it makes him self-conscious. “It’s fine if you’re a sad drunk, I’ll--”

 

“I’m not a sad drunk,” Leo says flatly, but there’s a smile at the corner of his lips.

 

“No but like, it’s fine if you are!! I’ll cheer you up! If you, if you feel, uh, saaad, I can make you feel better, with my body.”

 

Leo's smile freezes. “With your body?” he repeats, disbelieving.

 

“Yeah, with my--- with my--- uh like, I can… clip your nails or…” Neymar has images in his head but he has trouble finding the words for them. “Uh, give you a back rub, or a feet- foot rub, or I can- have the sex, with you, with my body.”

 

He tries to remember if there’s anything more. He’s willing to do anything really, and he thinks maybe he should tell Leo that, but before he has the time to formulate that thought, Leo’s voice cuts in.

 

“You want to have sex with me?” he repeats, and Neymar doesn’t understand his tone, if it’s bad disbelief or good disbelief, or curiosity, or if maybe the voice is in Neymar’s head because Leo doesn’t look that shaken.

 

“With my body,” Neymar adds, because it’s important Leo knows. “Not with someone’s else body.”

 

“And you want that?” Leo probes.

 

“Well I--” He thinks about Leo's question and confesses, “When I was 21, I used to jerk off thinking of you.”

 

“You’re still 21,” Leo points out.

 

“I know,” he answers sadly.

 

“That’s--” Leo starts talking, probably to address this very important matter of the sex with their bodies, and Neymar intends to listen carefully but just then Dani starts stripping off on a table and Neymar bolts out of the couch at once.

 

“Dani wait for me!” he yells.

 

He isn’t sure what Leo and he were talking about anyway, but surely that could wait until later.

 

 

 

(3)

 

Things change when the new season starts. He isn’t sure why, but everything starts back anew, except Neymar can speak Spanish, he knows the guys and they know him, and he clicks with them on the pitch already. Things change in a good way and where he previously felt not good enough, now he has the feeling that he fits right in.

 

Things change, except his crush on Leo. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get that out of his head. He gets on well with Leo and it’s amazing, but far from morphing into friendship, his crush only grows bigger and bigger, takes all the space and all his time.

 

He spent countless nights thinking about the things he'd confessed to Leo that night before they parted ways for the World Cup. Leo had never said anything about it, probably thinking Neymar had been joking, or talking nonsense. _Still_ , it would have been nice if Leo at least gave an indication that this conversation had happened at all.

 

Speaking of, Leo enters his line of sight and Neymar's eyes are immediately drawn to him, his hands freezing as he's taking off his shorts. He watches. Leo chuckles, Leo smiles, Leo undresses, Leo bends over. The last part works Neymar up more than necessary.

 

Leo has, objectively, a nice ass. It’s round and big, and completed by powerful thick thighs, and Neymar wants nothing more than to push his face into Leo’s ass and die there.

 

“What are you staring at?” Rafinha inquires, sitting down next to him, hair still wet from the shower.

 

Neymar doesn’t answer, sighing wistfully. Rafinha frowns, following his stare.

 

“Is that Leo you're staring at so creepily?”

 

“I want to eat him,” Neymar admits in a pitiful voice. Rafinha scoots away from him. “No, no, not _literally_.”

 

“Not literally?” Rafa repeats, and Neymar can’t tear his eyes away from Leo but he can hear the frown in Rafinha’s voice. “What do you mean th—ew, _no_. Neymar, no.”

 

“I want to eat his ass,” Neymar bemoans.

 

“I said _no_ , I don’t want to hear about your twisted fantasies, I _work_ with the guy goddamn--”

 

“I want to eat his dick too.”

 

Rafinha stands up and makes a point of stomping loudly. “Look, I’m putting my foot down Neymar, that’s where I draw the line.”

 

“I’m sure even his farts smell nice,” Neymar adds, barely resisting the urge to smile.

 

“I hope a defender emasculate you during a match,” Rafinha says, glaring at him before walking away.

 

Neymar watches him go, a smile slowly taking over his lips. A giggle is starting to clog up his throat when a deep voice booms next to him and two frighteningly big hands settle on his shoulders.

 

“ _Put_ -” Neymar yells, jumping away to face one very amused Geri. “What do you want Geri?!”

 

Gerard doesn’t seem to mind his tone, grinning widely as he sits down next to him.

 

“What do _you_ want?”

 

Neymar frowns. “I want to know what you want.”

 

Gerard snorts. “Yeah that, and Leo's dick.”

 

Neymar quickly checks whether the little Argentine is still in the room, but thankfully he seems to have wandered away to the showers.

 

“Did you listen to our conversation?”

 

“Yes,” Geri says, no trace of shame in his voice, “but everyone knows you want Leo’s dick anyway. You’re eating him with your eyes. And now you want to eat his ass, uh?”

 

“Shut up,” Neymar hits his shoulder, blushing. He didn't have any issue antagonizing Rafa, but Gerard's shit-eating grin is making him self-conscious.

 

“Well do you want advice or not?”

 

“I--” Neymar considers him. Geri augurs no good, but he also knows Leo better than him. “What would that advice be.”

 

“Leo won’t do anything, that’s how he is. You need to make the first step. If you want him you should just, forcefully bend him over and shove your tongue in his ass.”

 

Neymar stares, eyes wide, because that seems like an awful advice. “ _Forcefully_ ?”

 

“Yeah,” Geri nods.

 

“I can’t-- what if he doesn’t want to, I can’t just _shove_ my tongue in there.”

 

Geri frowns at him. “If you do anything against Leo’s consent I’ll beat you up,” he says dangerously.

 

“I won’t-You’re the one who said--”

 

“I said no such thing,” Geri denies.

 

“You did, you just did!”

 

“No I didn’t. But look, my point is-- I’m taken. I have a very beautiful girlfriend and I have lots of extremely satisfying sex, and you look like you haven't gotten laid in a year. I pity you.”

 

“You fucking--” Neymar can’t finish his sentence because Gerard gets up, pinching his ear while saying _there there_ and then going away to bother someone else.

 

Neymar doesn’t trust Geri, not in the slightest, and even though he should take everything he says with a grain of salt, he thinks he’s at least right about one thing – Leo won’t take any initiative.

 

But then again, Leo might not even be interested. It’s not like he shows any sign. It’s a train-wreck but Neymar thinks one day he’ll just kiss Leo and hope for the best. At least he’ll know then, if it’s worth trying.

 

 

 

(4)

 

Neymar isn’t sure how it happens.

 

It’s half-time and the match is still tied. The other team is pressing them and it’s rare that they have to run so much. They’re all sweaty, forwards, defenders and midfielders alike. He thinks even Claudio is breaking a sweat.

 

Neymar goes to the bathroom as soon as Lucho is done with his speech, eager to splash water on his face and down his neck. He only takes the time to ceremoniously check his phone before heading to the restroom.

 

When he enters the room, he's surprised to find Leo already there, washing his hands. He's as sweaty as him, bangs sticking to his forehead, hair mussed. Leo’s hair looks nice nowadays. Neither too short nor too long, just the right size for Neymar to pass a hand through it or grip it a bit if he thinks he can get away with it. Leo’s getting tattoos too, and they look nice. Leo’s biceps too, they’re very nice, and his abs too, and his pimples when he smiles, and his ass and the little crack on his chin and--

 

He doesn’t know what takes over him – adrenalin maybe – but he strides up to Leo, and before Leo can do much more than smile and ask, “what?” Neymar is kissing him plain on the mouth.

 

He’s harsher than he means to, more desperate than he means to, but he tries to remember Geri’s words, holds onto them, _you need to make the first step_ , and he chants _please don’t push me_ _away_ _please don’t push me_ _away_ in his head like a mantra.

 

Leo is still at first, his lips salty and humid with sweat. His nose pokes Neymar’s face and Neymar’s nose does just the same and it’s pitiful and Neymar wants to cry with how bad he’s failing this.

 

And then Leo shifts, just an inch, angling his head differently so their noses don't get in the way and Neymar melts with relief. He feels a new wave of determination hits him and he whines, pressing closer, catching Leo’s face between his hands. Leo kisses him back, lazy and confident, even though Neymar is vibrating with too much feelings to keep track of.

 

He needs to bend down for his mouth to reach Leo's mouth, even though Neymar isn't tall himself, and it's marvelous how such a small man can have the world on the palm of his hand. ( _Neymar's world at least_ )

 

Leo starts pushing on his shoulders ever so slightly and alarms go blazing in Neymar’s head, and _no no_ he presses even harder, holds his cheeks so tight he’s afraid he’ll leave marks on Leo’s pale skin ( _god, the shape of his fingers on Leo’s skin--_ ), but Leo is stronger than him, and it only takes one strong push for him to force Neymar away.

 

“Ney-”

 

“Please,” Neymar begs, “please please-”

 

“ _Ney-_ ”

 

“What do you want. Tell me what you want I’ll do anything I’ll-”

 

There’s noise in the corridor, something loud – loud like Gerard’s laughter – and Neymar freezes and Leo hisses. And then Leo is pushing him into a toilet stall, unceremoniously shoving him inside before slamming the door shut behind him right as the bathroom door opens. He gives him a _look_ that can’t mean anything besides _shut up_ , and Neymar stills, waiting with bated breath for Geri and Jordi to finish their business.

 

Leo is leaning against the door, looking at him, and Neymar is staring right back. Jordi and Geri are talking loudly but Neymar has no idea what they are saying. He’s focused on nothing but Leo’s eyes, the way they’re dark in that badly lit stall, the way he’s boring holes into him and Neymar can’t get a read on him. The way Leo’s cheeks are flushed – just a bit – and his mouth is slightly open. Neymar wonders if it’s his kiss that took his breath away – he knows it took his away, and he feels like he’s suffocating, too scared he'd annoy Leo if he dared breathe while Jordi and Gerard are there.

 

It feels like forever before they hear them leaving, their loud voices following them down the corridor, until all that's left is silence and Leo's eyes piercing his skin.

 

Leo frowns.

 

“Are you breathing at all?”

 

“Kinda,” Neymar wheezes, and he inhales deeply. “Can I--”

 

“Neymar-” Leo’s brows furrow, and it looks like there’s a reproach, a refusal at the tip of his tongue, even though Gerard said to make the first step _damn it_.

 

Neymar is on Leo before he can finish his sentence. Leo bites his lips to reprimand him and Neymar whimpers but it doesn’t feel bad, not if Leo is the one doing it. He pecks his jaw instead, and tries to nose down his neck. Leo is tense at first, but then he gives in, tilting his head to the side to allow Neymar to lick his neck and it’s the most delicious thing he ever tasted.

 

Leo’s neck is _white white white_ and it smells like sweat and the cologne he put on before the match, and Neymar wants to eat him whole.

 

“Don’t leave a mark,” Leo says, sucking in a breath. “The match starts in 10 minutes, don’t-”

 

“Ok, ok,” Neymar agrees quickly and forces himself to push away lest he starts leaving hickeys on Leo’s neck. “10 minutes, it’s ok I can--”

 

 _I can suck your dick_ , flashes in his head like a bolt of thunder, and the thought is so good it makes him shiver and shake with lust.

 

He doesn’t think anymore, just drops to his knees, his hands flying to Leo’s shorts to pull them down. Leo doesn’t have the time to react, taking a step back but he’s already backed against the door. He stills, and Neymar looks up at him hopefully, batting his eyelashes and trying to convey how utterly desperate he is, until, finally, Leo relaxes a bit, letting his hands fall to his sides, _allowing_ him to go on.

 

Leo’s jerseys are always too big on him, completely hiding his cock and Neymar eagerly pulls it up, holds it against his abs to stare at Leo’s naked crotch. Leo is only-half hard, but it’s still the most beautiful sight Neymar has ever seen. There are black hairs crowning his shaft, and then strong thick thighs that are tense with anticipation and then Leo’s white dick and Neymar wants nothing more than to taste it.

 

Neymar takes what he wants, since Leo lets him.

 

He kisses his cock, licks it and mouths at it, puts the half-hard shaft in his mouth, pressing the tip of his tongue against the underside to taste Leo’s sweat and Leo’s scent and Leo’s everything. He clutches Leo’s jersey tightly, pressing his fist against Leo’s tense abs and he feels one of Leo’s hand slides into his hair, and usually Neymar would protest but it’s ok if it’s Leo, it’s ok if Leo is the one gripping his hair so tight his scalp hurts.

 

It doesn’t take much time for Leo’s dick to be fully hard, and it’s beautiful. It stands thick and long and big, impressive like everything Leo is, and Neymar is in love with Leo’s dick, just like he’s in love with everything Leo is.

 

“Neymar--” Leo makes a muffled noise when Neymar takes him in his mouth, almost choking in his over-eagerness to take everything in. “God you’re pretty,” Leo says, and that makes Neymar look up.

 

Leo is staring down, right at him, black eyes focused on his face and a flush on his cheeks, and his ears are bright red and he looks disheveled and strands of hair are sticking to his cheeks, and Neymar has to close his eyes not to come on the spot.

 

He sneaks his free hand inside his own shorts, jerking off shakily, and he hears a thud above – Leo letting his head fall against the door, taking a deep breath in to calm down.

 

Neymar sucks Leo’s dick fast, tries to make it as good as he can, his jaw aching with all the efforts he puts into it. Leo isn’t very vocal, nothing more than pants and wheezing breaths, and soft mumbles that sound like swear words.

 

And then Leo tugs on his hair, a warning that doesn’t need to be voiced, and Neymar deepthroats him, lets his dick slide all the way down in his throat until he’s choking and Leo lets out a strangled moan as he cums, shooting everything in his throat and Neymar swallows eagerly, tasting every drops of Leo’s semen like it’s a divine nectar (it _is_ , it fucking is).

 

Neymar doesn’t know when he came himself, but he knows his hand is sticky and wet, and there’s something akin to euphoria running through his veins.

 

Neymar pulls away to catch his breath, letting go of Leo’s jersey and watching it slowly cover Leo's crotch again, an ugly wrinkly at the bottom of it.

 

Neither of them say anything, and Neymar doesn’t dare looking up. He listens to Leo breathe, afraid Leo will disappear if he stops listening.

 

Their wake-up call is voices calling for the players in the corridor because the match is about to start again, and the both of them dress in records time, and between the match, their unexpected win, the celebration and everything, there's no time that day to talk about what happened.

 

And because Leo is Leo, they never talk about it.

 

 

 

(5)

 

Neymar feels rather good. The music is so loud it makes him feel like his heart is one with the bass, and he drank enough for the room to spin but not enough for it to be anything but funny. Geri's booming laughter echoes in his head from time to time and Dani's singing along with him to every songs they know.

 

Winning. Winning is a drug. It's their drugs, it's the _Campeones_ that burst out from nowhere from time to time. _One down, two to go_ , Masche said, but they already feel like they can take over the world.

 

“Leo!” Neymar squeals when he sees a flash of white. “Leo!” he calls again, skipping towards the little man as best as he can given that the floor insists on being unstable.

 

Leo waits for him and says his name, “Ney”, like a greeting, a smile on his face and two dimples on his face like two dots that Neymar is enamored with.

 

Leo is wearing a black shirt, and his new tattoo is a flash of bright colors on his deliciously white skin, and his hair is a bit sweaty, mussed with how many times people ruffled it throughout the night, and he's smiling brightly at Neymar. He looks happy. He looks exquisite.

 

“Leooooo,” Neymar calls and giggles, latching onto the small body, lodging his face against his neck. “Leo you're the champion.”

 

Leo laughs and slips an arm around his waist to hold him up, allowing Neymar to lean his whole body weight on him.

 

“ _We_ are the champions,” Leo corrects, and Neymar laughs with delight.

 

“But you're the sole champion of my heart. You won it Leo! You won, you won! You're the winner.”

 

Leo tenses for a second. “Aren't you a bit drunk?”

 

“Yes,” Neymar admits. “But!! I've been meaning to talk to you.”

 

A song starts right at this moment, so loud Neymar doesn't hear his own voice, and he looks at Leo's confused face helplessly. Neymar has so many, so many, _so_ _many_ things to say but the music is too loud.

 

Leo blinks up at him, and tilts his head towards the door, and Neymar is a bit confused until---

 

“Good idea!” he shouts, leaning onto Leo as they exit the room.

 

Leo takes him to a bedroom in Geri's giant house, a red guest room with a big bed in the middle and red covers. Neymar plops down on the bed with a joyful sigh, enjoying the stability of the mattress while the room spins and spins and spins. He laughs with delight.

 

“Maybe I should just let you to sleep,” a low voice says and Neymar blinks his eyes open to find Leo looking amusedly down at him.

 

He's wearing a black shirt, and his new tattoo is a flash of bright colors on his deliciously white skin, and his hair is a bit sweaty, mussed with how many times people ruffled it throughout the night, and he's smiling teasingly at Neymar. He looks happy. He looks exquisite.

 

“I don't want to sleep. There are songs waiting for me to dance on.”

 

“I think Dani will cover that for you,” Leo says.

 

“Hmf.” Neymar struggles to sit up, his head a bit heavy but he manages to recline against the headboard, smiling brightly at Leo when he succeeds.

 

“I want to stay with you.”

 

“I'm probably going home soon,” Leo counters.

 

“Take me home with you.”

 

Leo's smile drops a bit but his eyes are still warm and affectionate. He doesn't say anything.

 

“Do you remember _uuuhh_ \-- I don't remember,” Neymar whines.

 

“I can't remember for you.”

 

“So you forgot?” Neymar says sadly.

 

Leo rolls his eyes and sits down on the bed next to him. The mattress dips and Neymar laughs when the room tilts.

 

“You're wasted,” Leo comments, and he looks amused still.

 

He's wearing a black shirt, and his new tattoo is a flash of bright colors on his deliciously white skin, and his hair is a bit sweaty, mussed with how many times people ruffled it throughout the night, and Neymar remembers Leo's sweaty skin and his dark eyes on him, and a hoarse voice telling him _you're_ _pretty_ , and Leo's taste, and Leo's scent---

 

“Why did you never say anything?”

 

“What?”

 

“Isuckedyourdick,” Neymar says in a breath, but from the way Leo tenses he heard him right.

 

Leo doesn't say anything. Neymar listens to him breath next to him, and he feels his eyelids droop. He lets his back slide down a bit until he can rest his head against Leo's shoulder.

 

“I want you,” Neymar whispers. “I want you sooo bad.”

 

It feels like forever before a soft voice says, “You can have me.”

 

“What?” Neymar startles back, looking up at Leo, unsure if he heard correctly.

 

Leo licks his lips and looks him in the eyes, no trace of shame or doubt when he says, “You can have me anytime you want.”

 

There's a shiver running down Neymar's spine, starting from his cervical and tickling each of his vertebrae and when it finally reaches his coccyx, Neymar surges forward and plants a messy kiss on Leo's lips.

 

Leo opens his mouth benevolently, placing a hand on the little of his back, composed and calm even though Neymar is practically eating his mouth, grasping helplessly at his shirt.

 

There's a fruity, alcoholic taste on the tip of Leo's tongue, and his skin is soft under his thumbs. Neymar kisses Leo like it's his last day on earth, whining from time to time as he tries to get closer and closer. He slips a hand under Leo's shirt and Leo lets him, lets his hand run free on his abs, lets his fingers tease his small nipples, the buds hardening under them and making Neymar itch to suck on them.

 

Leo tries to say something, but the syllables get swallowed in his mouth, and Neymar feels the words die against his palate. Leo tastes amazing, and the sound of their kiss is obscene, wet and dirty noises filling Neymar's ears and making his heart beat faster.

 

“Leo, Leo,” he chants, breaking away so he can explore the tantalizing white skin of Leo's face and neck, but he never manages to stay away for long before the urge to kiss Leo overtakes him. “I want-- Leo.”

 

Leo slips a hand against his nape, holds his head steady and pulls back ever so slightly. His eyes are a bit dazed when Neymar manages to focus on them.

 

“Iwantto-- fuck.” Neymar looks helplessly at Leo's face, and forces himself to pronounce perfectly. “you. I want to. Do you,” he says, and he thinks he gets it right this time.

 

“What if I say you can?”

 

Neymar's brain freezes.

 

“What?”

 

There's a small smile at the corner of Leo's lips, something teasing and amused, and he's breathing heavily and his hair is mussed and his lips are open and--

 

“What?” Neymar repeats, voice high. “Leo. Shit Leo,” and he surges forward again, pressing and pressing until Leo relents and lies down on the bed, allowing Neymar to kiss his whole face wetly, to press their bodies close together, feeling Leo's chest against his and his strong arms loosely embracing his shoulders.

 

Neymar dives into Leo's neck, presses kisses after kisses on his pale throat, but he doesn't dare leave a mark.

 

Leo's hands travel down his back and it makes him shiver. He feels every of his vertebrae, all the way down to his ass, before traveling back up like he has all the time in the world, even though his skin burns every places Leo touches.

 

Neymar is in love and it's making him light-headed.

 

He presses his body as close to Leo as he can, rubbing against him, and when he feels it – something hard in Leo's pants, pressing right against his hip bone – he feels like he's going to explode right there and then. His breathing is getting more erratic by the minute, his kisses more insistent, his hands more unsure--

 

“Ney come on,” Leo whispers against his lips.

 

And Neymar wants him, he wants him so bad.

 

He rubs against Leo's crotch, arousal spurring him. He's not hard yet, despite how hot their kisses are, despite how aroused he feels, so he presses down harder.

 

And harder.

 

And harder.

 

The thing is, he doesn't get hard.

 

“Ney,” Leo says again, minutes later, and Neymar is still desperately rubbing against him, feeling Leo's hard-on but unable to replicate with one of his own.

 

“Shitfuck,” Neymar curses, and he buries his head in the crook of Leo's neck, humping more frantically.

 

“Ney?” Leo questions. “Ney?” he tries again when Neymar falls silent. “Ney, hey,” he says, stopping his hips with a hand.

 

“Imsorry,” Neymar sobs. “Imsosoorry.”

 

“Neymar?”

 

“Ican't. I can't get hard,” he sobs, and he's really trying to fight it but he can't help it, and there are tears in his voice and in his eyes.

 

“What?”

 

“I can't get hard!” Neymar wails, louder this time so Leo can hear him. He looks at Leo's blurry face through the tears, and he thinks he's hallucinating when a smile slowly forms on Leo's face until he's flat out laughing under him. “Leo!” Neymar exclaims, distressed. “Leo!”

 

Despite his best efforts, Leo doesn't stop laughing, dimples on his face and looking so cute and nice and Neymar can't have him, he'll never have him, and now Leo is mocking him. Of course Leo will never want him again, how could he take him seriously and desire him ever again.

 

“Leo,” he chokes, tears clogging up his throat. “I'm sorry, please.”

 

Finally, Leo seems to calm down, but there's still a smile on his face and in his eyes, and a flush on his cheeks. “Of course, you're way too drunk to have sex.”

 

“No,” Neymar denies. “I'm not.”

 

“You are.”

 

“Am not!” Neymar protests, and he feels Leo move under him, seemingly trying to slip out from under him. “No don't go!”

 

“I think you need to sleep,” Leo says, _still_ trying to get away from him.

 

“Leo,” Neymar sobs, gripping his shirt, but it's not enough to stop Leo from moving Leo tries to sit up but Neymar's hands are fisted in his black shirt, pulling and stretching the fabric. “Leo please no I'm sorry I'm sorry I can do better give me another chance I promise I can do better don't leave me Leo Leo I love you don't leave me please Leo _por favor por favor pooo_ -”

 

Leo pays no mind to his litany, getting up despite his pleas.

 

“I'm coming back, wait,” Leo says before leaving, and Neymar watches his back and yells his name even louder.

 

But Leo walks away anyway, and Neymar curls into a ball, soaking the pillow with his tears and swearing to cut off his dick tomorrow, and give it to a fish to eat because it's useless, _useless useless useless_.

 

And then, light shines again when the door opens and Leo comes in again, a glass in one hand and pills in the other.

 

“For when you wake up,” he says, putting the pills on the bedside table and giving him the glass of water.

 

Neymar squints at the glass.

 

“Did you-- did you put something in it?”

 

“Water,” Leo answers.

 

“Did you---” his eyes widen, “did you put in _viagra_?” he gasps.

 

Leo huffs. “Of course not. Now drink.”

 

“But I'm--- I'm too young to use viagra I don't need--- oh god I do. I need it. Leo.”

 

Leo rolls his eyes, a playful smile at the corner of his lips. “Drink,” he repeats.

 

Neymar's hand is shaking around the glass and his vision is still blurry but yes. He'll dot it. He'll take the viagra if Leo asks him to, because Leo deserves that.

 

“Ok,” he answers, voice shaky. “But you won't tell anyone right? That I, that I needed v-viagra,” he pleads, stumbling on the word.

 

“I won't, but only if you drink real fast.”

 

Neymar nods fast enough to get light-headed and downs the glass in one go. He slams it on the bedside table and lies back down.

 

“Ok,” he says, trying to be calm. “Ok. How long- how long does it take to kick in?”

 

“You should go to sleep Ney,” Leo says, something like fondness in his voice and Neymar feels dread fill him because _oh no_ , that's it, Leo considers him like a child, no way he'll get down to any dirty business with him now.

 

“No, no,” Neymar attempts to stand up, but Leo pushes him back down on the bed. “Let me try again Leo.”

 

“It's ok Ney.”

 

“Leo, Leo I love you, let me--”

 

“ _Shhh._ ” Leo is calm, forcing his shoulders against the bed and drawing the covers over him, before sitting on the bed by his side.

 

Neymar stares at him pitifully. “Please.”

 

“Another time,” Leo says.

 

Neymar blinks. “Another time?” he repeats, trying not to sound too hopeful.

 

“Yeah, another time.”

 

“When?”

 

“Whenever you want.”

 

“Then right now.”

 

Leo snorts. “Come on Ney sleep. You'll fuck me later, I promise.”

 

And Leo, Leo usually doesn't make false promises. And despite himself, with Leo's heavy weight on the bed and his scent still filling his nose and his strong hands holding his shoulders down – despite himself Neymar feels himself falling asleep.

 

He dreams of nothing but Leo.

 

 

 

(+1)

 

Neymar's heart is beating really fast.

 

Leo is fresh out of the shower, glowing with the post-match adrenalin and the feeling of victory. His hair is a bit wet and he looks peaceful and happy. Neymar thinks this is the right moment.

 

They haven't talked about what happened last week, and Neymar still isn't sure _what_ had happened. He woke up in a bed in Geri's place, with memories of himself not being able to get it up, and crying about it, and this is so surreal he dearly hopes this was a dream.

 

What he hopes is real though is Leo's voice and the words said to him _another time_. He needs that to be real because he's cashing  in on it to get Leo to come home with him. And since Leo, as he is wont to do, didn't give any sign to indicate that something had happened, Neymar has no choice but to give it a try all by himself.

 

Gerard had said to be bold and for all that Gerard is an asshole, he knows Leo better than anyone else.

 

“Hey Leo,” he calls as Leo heads out. “You're leaving in Luis's car?”

 

Leo nods. The two of them have this carpooling deal that Neymar is definitely not jealous of.

 

“I was wondering if maybe, you wanted me to drive you back? To my place, maybe?”

 

“Your place?”

 

“Yeah, you know just. Hang out or-- I mean, you know...”

 

“What?” Leo asks, tilting his head. He does that thing sometimes, where he repeatshis words, forcing him to be clearer, and for some reason Neymar is starting to think that maybe sometimes, Leo actually understands him perfectly well.

 

Neymar feels his whole face heat up as he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper, “Because you said whenever I want.”

 

It's even more embarrassing to say it out loud, but he forces himself to look at Leo's face with imploring eyes. He dreads his reaction, but all Leo does is smile broadly – that smile where you can see his dimples – and he nods, and Neymar's heart skips a beat. Then another beat. Then another and another, and it doesn't stop skipping beats all the way back to his place.

 

And then, then he doesn't know how but Leo is sitting on his bed, leaning on his hands and glancing around curiously. And Neymar is standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at him, his palms moist and his heartbeat mad.

 

He takes shaky steps towards Leo, staring straight into his eyes, two black void sucking him in, and before he realizes it he's looming over Leo's form, Leo's head tilted up to look at him. There's something playful in Leo's smile, something relaxed in his posture, but something daring in his eyes, something that makes Neymar lean down slowly.

 

It's not the first time they kiss – and isn't that a wonderful thought – but it's been too long. Neymar only remembers a messy and rushed encounter in a bathroom and that failure last week that Neymar thinks shouldn't even count. Now time is on his side, he can put his hand on Leo's cheeks and feel his soft skin, feel Leo's nose press against his cheek, feel Leo's lips dancing against his own, and feel Leo's bangs tickle his forehead. Everything feels as soft as velvet, and it takes no time for Neymar's mind to get all fuzzy.

 

He holds Leo's face with both hands, eager to deepen the kiss, desperate to never let him go. In his rush to get always closer to Leo, he ends up falling on the bed, right on top of Leo, but it doesn't stop them from kissing.

 

Leo kisses lazily, mostly content to let Neymar do his thing, his fingers caressing up and down his arms, slowly, like he got all the time in the world, even though Neymar kisses him like the world is going to end. He only breaks away to catch his breath, or to stare at Leo's face to make sure it's him and he's there and it's not a dream like so many times before.

 

“Can I--” Neymar tries to speak, but it's hard because he can't help himself from kissing Leo, again and again and again, and Leo seems in no rush to stop him. “Can I-- mark. Marks, is that--” Leo kisses him too, and he's not too bad at this when he tries, his tongue teasing his and Neymar thinks he's purposefully trying to make talking difficult. “Hey--”

 

When he manages to pull back, Leo is smiling, and simply, easily, he says, “Go ahead.” Just like that.

 

Neymar can't resist it, can't resist the sight of Leo's white skin, and he dives in his neck, kissing his throat, licking until he finds a spot that makes Leo shiver and he sucks on the tender skin there. When he's done, the spot is glistening with saliva and purple with blood. There's now a hickey on Leo's body, a hickey Neymar put there, and it's so bright against his skin Neymar can't help moaning and diving right in, helplessly grinding down against Leo's leg.

 

There's something hard against his own hips that he identifies as Leo's own wanton cock. Leo is staring to touch him more too. He's slipped a hand under his shirt, right under his nape, and Neymar realizes he's tracing the letters of the tattoo he got there; _Blessed_ it says, and Leo is blindly tracing them with perfect accuracy, like he knows them by heart.

 

Neymar kisses all of Leo's neck until there's nothing left to kiss anymore and his whole skin is already wet with saliva. He pushes his collar down, trying to access more skin, and he groans frustratedly when the shirt doesn't give way easily.

 

Leo huffs and pushes him away, swiftly taking his shirt off. Neymar is eager to dive down to taste that new expanse of immaculate skin, but Leo keeps him away and tugs his shirt up, muttering a low _come on_ when Neymar fails to lift his arms.

 

Neymar quickly executes himself and once they're both bare-chested, Leo finally allows his mouth to explore the whole expanse of his chest. He feels Leo's hands at the base of his neck, playing and pulling with the shorts hairs, caressing his neck and his shoulder-blades. Leo's nails dig a bit into his skin when Neymar starts sucking on his nipples, licking the small buds before sucking it eagerly like he's trying to swallow them whole ( _he is_ ).

 

Neymar's hands are busy mapping out Leo's abs, feeling the ridges and muscles, feeling Leo tense up and shiver under his fingers, and every time he looks down, he can't help marveling at the contrast of their skins. Leo's chest is heaving up and down, his eyes closed, but he slowly opens them when Neymar stops, and his eyes are dark and lustful and intense, like they're going to swallow him whole, and Neymar is a willing victim.

 

“ _Eu te amo_ ,” he blurts out. _“_ I want you so bad, you look so good right now.”

 

“Look who's talking,” Leo huffs, and his voice is lower than Neymar anticipated, and it goes straight to his dick. “You're the most beautiful person I know.”

 

And Neymar flushes bright red, and his heart skips a few beats and he doesn't think it's true but the compliment makes him feel like he can take over the world.

 

He surges down to kiss Leo fiercely, and Leo puts a hand on his nape, a strong grip that keeps him right there and it makes Neymar even hotter. Leo is definitely stronger than he is, but he's laying there, he's going to give himself, and it's so beautiful Neymar could cry.

 

He parts from Leo's lips to resume his travel down his torso, kissing and licking his whole chest, toying with his belly button, which earns him a giggle, until he finally reaches his belt.

 

He puts his hand on the loop and looks up at Leo to ask for permission. Leo nods, and it's all Neymar needs to open the belt and take Leo's short and briefs off. And when it's finally done, when all of Leo's clothes are gone and when he lies there naked on his bed, Neymar has to take a moment to take the sight in. Leo's skin is so white – and now purple and pink where Neymar left his mark – and there are those thick hairs on his arms, and his cock laying hard on his belly, and his perfect abs, and his thighs-- Neymar's mouth waters at the sight, because Leo's thighs are the most beautiful things in this world. His legs are so short and sturdy, held together by wobbly knees, and the thickest thighs he's ever seen,strong and milky, adorned with veins and scars from matches where he never fell. 

 

Neymar can't help pushing his face against Leo's inner thigh, nestling between his legs. He feels Leo's cock against his forehead but he doesn't mind one bit. Leo tenses at the action though, and it's wonderful to be able to feel all those muscles in Leo's legs against his very own skin, how strong and powerful they are, and Neymar has the sudden urge to get choked by Leo's thighs.

 

He lets out a strangled moan and he kisses all over Leo's thighs, sucks the skin to leave hickeys. He grips and massages the flesh, watches the white skin turns red from how hard he's holding it.

 

Leo shifts under him with impatience, and when Neymar looks up, Leo seems annoyed that Neymar isn't paying attention to what really matters: his cock.

 

Neymar smiles, more assured than he feels, pressing his face one last time against Leo's milky thigh before moving to his crotch. He doesn't waste time, licking a fat stripe on the underside of Leo's cock and pressing a kiss right under the head, making Leo's hips buck up.

 

Leo tastes just like he remembered, except less sweaty. He winds a hand into his hair, and usually Neymar would hate that but now it's ok, the pressure on his scalp pleasant instead of painful. He licks all over Leo's dick, then nose down to his ball, laving it with saliva. He kisses and licks everywhere, worships Leo's cock like he's always wanted to. It's a beautiful cock. It's thick and pale and big – bigger than his. Neymar doesn't know if it's normal to find a cock beautiful buy he finds himself most definitely enamored with the thing.

 

He sucks on the head, caressing Leo's ball with one hand, holding onto Leo's thigh with the other ( _he can't stop_ ).

 

And really, Neymar could spend hours doing nothing but pleasuring Leo with his mouth. Leo is mostly silent, shifting and tugging on his hair, panting loudly, and sometimes Neymar doesn't hear anything anymore and he knows Leo stopped breathing, and it makes him try even harder. He sucks Leo's dick to the best of his ability, eager to make him feel good, eager to give and take.

 

He fondles Leo's ball with a hand, and hesitantly, he lets a finger reach down, slowly making its way to that part of Leo he never actually saw. His finger brush against Leo's rim, just for a second before Neymar is pulling back, afraid to have gone too fast. But Leo doesn't say anything, just spreads his legs further apart and Neymar can't help drawing back to watch. He never saw Leo like that, never so close, never so intimate, never _there_. And seeing Leo like that, seeing him whole, seeing every part of him, is much more than he ever thought he'd get. He looks at Leo's spread thighs and the small hole lost between two beautiful  asscheeks, and Neymar thanks god for his dark skin because Leo can't see how much he's blushing right now.

 

“Can I?” he asks hesitantly, forcing himself to look at Leo's face despite his shame.

 

Leo is watching him, his half-lidded eyes making him looks sleepy, except for the fact they're riveted on Neymar, and in that very instant, Neymar thinks he's the sole focus of his attention. Leo nods once, and his eyes follow him as he scrambles off the bed to his drawer.

 

He doesn't have to search for the lube for long, hastily snatching it before making his way back to the bed, and then he's right back to work because he stopped touching Leo for less than a minute and he already misses him.

 

He sucks the head of Leo's dick and sets on blowing him _for real_. He takes as much of his  cock as he can, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head up and down. If anything, Neymar thinks he's quite good at sucking dicks, and he wants to impress Leo, so he breathes deeply through his nose and takes every inches of Leo's cock inside his throat. He tries to blindly open the bottle of lube with his other hand, which proves to be harder than anticipated.

 

Leo's bucking up into his mouth and he makes a strangled noise in his throat, and Neymar moans in response. He moves his head up and down, pressing his tongue against the underside of his dick, while coating two fingers with lubricant.

 

He lets his fingers trail down, gliding on Leo's skin until they reach their destination. Neymar feels Leo's entrance, lets his fingers brush over the furled opening until it's slick with lube. He feels Leo's ass clench, and he doesn't know whether it's a good or bad thing. He sucks his cock harder to make sure Leo feels good.

 

He's probably more anxious than Leo when he pushes the first finger in, but it goes in without any resistance. Leo immediately clenches down around him, but he doesn't say anything. Neymar hooks an arm around one of his thighs, feels it heavy and hot on his shoulder and against his cheek, and he gets the urge to be smoldered by his thighs again.

 

He wriggles his finger inside Leo, wondering why he is so tight, clenching and unclenching around him repeatedly. It takes Leo groaning and tugging on his hair harshly for Neymar to realize that this isn't a show of discomfort but one of _lust_. He moans pitifully when he realizes, squeezing his eyes shut to control the new wave of arousal. He moves his finger around until he finds Leo's prostate, and he presses against it several time until Leo is pulling on his hair with more insistence.

 

Neymar mouths at Leo's balls when he pushes the second digit in. It slips easily inside, and Neymar thinks he's dreaming when Leo moves his hips against it. He doesn't waste time, going for his prostate again, pressing against the spot and making Leo's breath more erratic. He licks his cock at the same time, and his movements are less coordinated than he would have liked because there are too many things to focus on, but when Leo lets out soft sighs and chokes on his breath, he thinks he's doing a good enough job.

 

He fingers Leo intently, and he thinks he could actually do that forever – lay there between Leo's legs, sucking his dick and fingering his ass, pleasing him every second of every hour of every day.

 

His dick is straining against his own jeans, pulsing, and it's almost _painful_ how much he wants Leo but he wants him to feel good above everything else.

 

He pushes deep and presses his fingers down against Leo's prostate while he sucks him to the root, only wriggling his fingertips against the spot when his nose hits his belly and Leo positively _arches_ _his_ _back_ on the bed. And then there's a hand gripping his jaw, and Leo sound exhausted and  horny, saying, “ _Neymar,_ ” like an order.

 

And Neymar doesn't have it in him to tease Leo, and a bit selfishly, he does want to take everything Leo is willing to give, so he lets got of Leo's dick with a wet sound and he withdraws his fingers completely.

 

“I need--” he trails off, because he doesn't remember the damn word, gesturing wildly as Leo looks at him with a cocked eyebrow. His cheeks are bit rosy but he looks more put together than Neymar feels. “Condoms,” he finally says, before getting up to retrieve said item.

 

When he gets back to the bed, he undresses completely, getting ride of his socks, pants and underwear. Leo watches him. Leo observes him, looking at his hard cock, then glancing up and down his legs, and he watches silently while he slips on the condom and coats his dick with lube.

 

Neymar knows he doesn't have the biggest dick, and he doesn't mind, and he's pretty sure Leo knows because they share a locker room and it's not really a secret, but now with Leo's eyes on him Neymar feels more self-conscious than he ever did before.

 

When he's done prepping his dick, he looks at Leo, unsure, and Leo silently spreads his legs open. Neymar feels like he could come just from that.

 

He lets his hands roam over Leo's inner thighs, tentatively spreading his legs further apart and marveling when Leo actually lets him.

 

He kneels between his open legs, and takes a moment to stare at Leo laid out under him. Leo stares right back, his eyes unwavering.

 

Leo's strong thighs lay on either side of his legs, and Neymar guides the head of his cock to his entrance. He presses in timidly, letting the head pop past the rim, and immediately Leo clenches down around him. It's like he doesn't mind the intrusion at all, hasn't shown any sign of pain since they begun and for some reason Neymar suddenly remembers talks about Leo and how they say he has ' _high pain tolerance_ _'_ , and Neymar has to squeeze his cock not to do something stupid, like, cum on the spot.

 

He goes slow, pushing everything in, not breathing as he feels Leo's tight body around him, and looks at Leo's face – he's staring back at him, eyes hot on him and lustful.

 

He doesn't stop until he can feel Leo's ass against his ball, and then he lets out a sigh relief, and all but sag against Leo's chest, earning a chuckle for his efforts.

 

He stays there for several seconds, listening to Leo breathe in his ear, feeling Leo's hand caressing his back gently, and Leo is _tight tight tight_ around his dick,  sucking him in. He slips his hands under Leo's body, to his ass, and he caresses that stretched expanse reverently. He squeezes the flesh a bit before wandering to Leo's stretched rim, feeling his own cock right there, and he has trouble believing it's actually happening.

 

“I'm not going to last long,” he whispers in Leo's neck.

 

“You haven't even started,” Leo whispers back.

 

Neymar huffs and rises on his elbows to stare at Leo's amused face. It's a good look – lust and amusement mingled together on Leo's face. It makes Neymar want to kiss him, which he does. Leo only indulges him for a few seconds before nipping his lips and wrapping his legs around his waist in a sure sign of _get on with it already_.

 

Neymar sits up correctly again and grabs onto Leo's waist before he starts rolling his hips. He tries to find his prostate first, moving until he finds the angle that makes Leo squeezes his dick so hard Neymar temporarily sees white. And once he knows the angle, he draws out and pushes back in, fucking Leo in earnest.

 

He feels like a teenager, a kid who's doing this for the first time. He has the urge to go fast and come quickly, but he fights against it, because he wants to enjoy it, he wants to take his time and make Leo feels good. He grips Leo's hips hard, hard enough to leave bruises he thinks, and he keeps on with deep hard thrusts, aiming at his prostate every time, because he may not be big but he has good aim, dammit. At least, Leo seems pleased with it.

 

Leo isn't vocal, he doesn't scream and moan, he just lays there, eyes half-lidded but not once leaving his face, mouth open, chest heaving, nipples hard, thick dick laying on pale abs, and there are soft sighs and strangled moans that sometimes escape his throat, and Neymar thinks a porn couldn't have done it better. It's Leo, everything is Leo, and everytime Neymar manages to draw one of those sweet moans out of him, it feels like winning the Ballon d'Or.

 

(Not that he wants to win the Ballon d'Or. There is only one person who deserves that award after all, and he's currently laying under him).

 

“Fuck Leo,” Neymar whines. “ _T_ _e_ _amo_ _._ Thank you, thank you so much, love you so much, _mi_ _idolo_.”

 

Leo throws a hand against his face, and it hits Neymar right in the nose.

 

“Idiot,” Leo says, before dragging his head down, and then Leo's kissing him – kissing him for real, taking control of the kiss, making out with him while Neymar fucks him, and Neymar can't help going faster, the teenage hormones ( _he's twenty_ _three_ _goddammit_ ) taking over and making him chase his climax frenetically. He moans in Leo's mouth, desperate and overwhelmed, and sometimes he swallows Leo's moans too, catches his sighs in his mouth **.** Leo's kiss isn't lazy this time, it's more rushed, more passionate, more like his ass clenching around him and his thighs around his waist, holding him so tight Neymar feels like it's going to break all of his ribs.

 

Neymar thrusts in faster, until he can hear his balls slapping against Leo's skin, still going for his prostate every time and Leo groans in his ear, and it gets _so much_ Neymar can't help biting down on Leo's neck.

 

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, and he draws back hastily, his hips jerking to a stop.

 

“Fu- sorry,” he says, ready to stop and apologize and change identity and go to the North pole, but Leo's hand on his mouth makes him shut up.

 

Leo presses two fingers against his lower lips, a frown on his sweaty face, and the finger slide into his mouth, against his teeth. They slide over his canines, and Leo lets his fingertips press against it, pushing his thumb against the tooth until the skin pierce, and then there's a flash in Leo's eyes and he says, “Bite me.”

 

“Wha?” Neymar tries to talk around Leo's fingers in his mouth.

 

“Bite me,” Leo repeats, with no trace of hesitation.

 

“Are you- are you sure?”

 

“Come on Ney,” Leo insists, looking annoyed already, and Neymar hesitantly goes back to his neck.

 

He chooses a white spot, licks the skin as he timidly resumes thrusting in and out. He kisses the spot, trying to apologize to the skin for how he's going to hurt it, and then he does as Leo asked him – he bites. He bares his teeth and presses down slowly, hesitantly in case Leo wants to back out but he doesn't. He's holding onto his shoulders, and when his teeth pierce his skin Leo arches off he bed. He lets out the loudest moan Neymar has heard from him, and he holds him and gasps and clenches around him.

 

Leo _loves_ it.

 

Neymar has no idea what to do with that. All he knows is Leo looks like he's enjoying himself and he looks amazing ad he's calling his name-- oh, _Leo is_ _caling_ _his name_.

 

“Neymar, fuck, Ney--”

 

Neymar licks the wound, and parts of him feels bad for hurting his precious Leo, but most of him doesn't mind, it would do anything Leo asked him to. He licks the bite until it doesn't bleed anymore, and there's a metallic taste on his tongue coupled with the taste of Leo's sweat. He kisses his way back to Leo's mouth, and Leo catches his lips between his hotly, rewarding him for his efforts.

 

And somehow, this whole thing, Leo's reaction, Leo under him, it pushes him over the edge, and he thrusts harder as he feels his climax nearing.

 

“Leo, I'm not going to last, I'm not going to last-”

 

“Hold on,” Leo says.

 

“I can't, I'm sorry I really really-” he yelps when Leo reaches down, squeezing the base of his cock. “I feel dizzy,” he bemoans. “My brain isn't working. There's no blood there.”

 

“But it's your dick I'm squeezing, not your neck,” Leo teases between harsh pants.

 

“My dick is my brain right now,” Neymar jokes back, trying to pretend he isn't sweating like a pig about to get butchered.

 

“Then your brain is as little as everyone says,” Leo says, and when Neymar looks at him, cross-eyed because they're somehow too close, Leo is smiling widely, dimples on his face and Neymar is pretty sure it's a jab at his dick but he can't manage more than a _jerk!_ before the urge to kiss Leo's dimples overwhelms him and he acts on it.

 

Leo laughs under him, his breath tickling his neck, and Neymar chases his laugh too. He resumes fucking him, and as expected, Leo squeezing his cock didn't buy him more than a few seconds for it's not long before Neymar comes, moaning Leo's name and closing his eyes as he comes. He keeps fucking Leo deeply while coming, until he's completely spent, panting in Leo's neck, trying to catch his breath.

 

He feels too hot and sweaty all of sudden, and an all too familiar pleasant buzz is spreading through his whole body.

 

Leo is rubbing his scalp nicely, soothingly, and he would like nothing more than to lay there and fall asleep in Leo's arms, but he can still feel Leo's hard dick against his stomach. He does his best to rise on his elbows, reaching between their bodies to wrap a hand around Leo's shaft. Leo's big in his hand, and leaking against his belly. His own dick is still hard and pressed deep against his prostate, so he jerks Leo fast, hoping to make him come before his dick softens.

 

He makes quick movements, admiring the way Leo looks into his hand, and whimpering when Leo squeezes down on his sensitive cock, but he doesn't protest. He looks back between Leo's cock and Leo's face, listening avidly to every noises he makes, until finally, Leo shuts his eyes and he gasps silently, his thighs tightening around Neymar's waist like a vice, his stomach tensing as he spurts on his abs, shots after shots that Neymar milks out of him.

 

He waits for Leo to come down from his high before withdrawing from him, his half-hard dick easily slipping out. He ties a knot around the condom before throwing it away. There's a white mess on Leo's pale stomach, and he leans down, licking him clean, making sure to swallow every drops of his cum.

 

When he's done, Leo's eyes are closed, a flush on his face, his hair mussed and bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead, and he's breathing peacefully. He looks about to fall asleep.

 

“Can I-- sleep there?” Neymar whispers not to disturb him.

 

“It's your bed,” Leo mumbles.

 

Neymar takes that as a yes.

 

He gets the sheets out from under a very unhelpful Leo and throws it around them, and slips under them. He keeps to his side of the bed, unsure what the correct distance is. He shuffles a bit closer, and a bit closer and--

 

“Leo,” he whispers.

 

“Hn,” comes the sleepy voice.

 

“Could we-- do this again?”

 

“Right now?”

 

“No, of course not! But I mean, sometimes? Like maybe, regularly? Maybe we could, make it a thing, move in together, and you could marry me and we'd have a dog and--”

 

Leo bursts out laughing at that, and Neymar feels pleased as always when he manages to make Leo laugh. Leo opens his eyes to look at him, smiling.

 

“Your brain _really_ is small.”

 

“Hey!” Neymar protests, slapping Leo's arm and he takes advantage of that to shuffle even closer. So close Leo is in fact breathing into his face. “But, what do you think?”

 

“About what?”

 

“About-- doing it again?”

 

“Hmm,” Leo hums. “Maybe,” he whispers, before closing his eyes again, a sure sign this conversation is over.

 

“Maybe?” Neymar repeats, disbelieving. And this isn't a satisfying answer at all, but when he notices the slight pull of Leo's lips, he can't help bursting out, “You're doing that on purpose aren't you? Being mysterious and evasive. That thing you do where you don't answer me directly, you're messing with me aren't you?”

 

And Leo's smile widens, which is as good as answering _yes I mess with your head on purpose_. Neymar calls his name indignantly, but it only makes Leo smile wider with his eyes still closed. He pinches his arm a few times to get his attention, but Leo doesn't budge. After a while, Neymar stops and pouts, and Leo's smile slowly drops, his features softening as he slowly falls asleep.

 

They're close, so close he sees every pores on his skin, hears every breathes he takes, distinguishes each of his eyelashes. Neymar stares at him for a while, until he feels his own eyelids get heavy. He curls, smoothly taking Leo's hand in his own without waking him up, and he closes his eyes slowly, leaning his forehead right next to Leo's.

 

He thinks he dreams Leo's hand squeezing his back as he falls asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I don't know how to feel about this story, but dammit it's finally done. I hope you enjoyed it, and that at least, Neymar's failures amused you.


End file.
